Conrad Starguard - The Crosstime Enginee Part 19

"Of course, sir. We always pay our just debts."

"Tadeusz," I said. "What do they owe you for what they've done to your property, for the injury caused to you and your wife?"

"Who can say, Sir Conrad?" the innkeeper said. "But is this wise?"

"Name a number!"

"Perhaps five hundred pence?"

"Good," I said. "Okay, wh.o.r.emaster. You owe us five hundred pence, not to mention the mess you've made on the floor and the fact that your thugs cut up and bled all over my best outfit. Get out!"

"As you command, Sir Conrad Stargard." He left with as much dignity as he could muster.

"Are you insane, Sir Conrad?" the innkeeper said. "Now they will come back!"

"I doubt it. That kind knows when it's licked."

"But they will! Girls! Quickly! Run to Sir Conrad's room. Bring back his weapons and armor!"

Six naked teenagers scurried off, the one with the blanket having dropped it in the blood pooling under the body that was still stuck to the beam. "At least bring my wine!" I shouted. I dropped heavily into a chair. The action was over, and I was starting to get the shakes.

I got my wine, but shortly six pretty, nude girls, at Tadeusz's insistence, were stripping off my outer clothes and lacing me into padded leather and chain mail. "This is stupid. They won't be back," I said, but I was wrong. Once I was fully armed, we searched out and found the inn's guard.

He had a huge knot on the side of his head and was bound, gagged, and furious. He smiled at the corpse stuck to the ceiling, and when the other thug started moaning, he took particular pleasure in tying the man up.

"Yes," the guard said, gripping his sword. "Let them come back." "Hey," I said. "If you people are that worried, why not send for the count's guardsmen?"

"Certainly, Sir Conrad," the innkeeper said. "But who would dare go out into the night?"

"Oh, h.e.l.l. I'll do it myself," I said. "And have these girls get some clothes on. They act like this really is a brothel!"

"And leave us defenseless?" one of the girls squealed. "s.h.i.t." I sat down and took a long pull of wine. There was nothing for it but to wait until they all calmed down and went back to bed.

Anyway, my injured foot was throbbing.

The girls were pa.s.sing out knives from the kitchen, which was absolutely stupid.

If you don't know how to use a weapon, you are much better off without it. In their excitement, they had forgotten my instructions to get dressed. Or perhaps running around naked with knives seemed more adventurous to them. Mrs. Wrolawski, who usually kept them in check, was sitting, stunned, on her bed. She hadn't even made an effort to cover her bruised b.r.e.a.s.t.s. Her husband was sitting in the other chair in a blue funk, blood still dripping from his nose. The guard was looking for an excuse to kill somebody, the girls were working out a set of heroic pa.s.swords, the body was still stuck to the ceiling, and my foot hurt.

d.a.m.n, what a lunatic night! My mother told me I should have gone to the beach.

There was a knock at the door.

Everyone in the room froze. Even the previously murderous guard was suddenly sweating.

"Never mind," I said. "I'll get it."

I limped down the hall to the main door. One more piece of insanity and I was going to scream. I did take the precaution of drawing my sword before opening the door.

"Ali. Sir Conrad Stargard, I believe," said the well dressed gentleman before me. "Please note that we come unarmed and with goodwill. We wish to make amends for certain unpleasantries that occurred earlier this evening." There were six of them, two men and four women. They presented Tadeusz with a purse containing five hundred pence, removed the dead and wounded men, and, with buckets of warm, soapy water that they had brought with them, cleaned up the blood on the floor.

"These, of course, are yours by right of combat," the gentleman said, presenting me with the newly cleaned misericord, the wide-bladed knife, and the leader's throwing knife. All three were sheathed. He must have brought the leader's sheath with him.

"Certain other amends will be made at the earliest opportunity. In the interim, I wish you a pleasant sleep and our a.s.surances of our continued goodwill." And they left.

"That's it, gang. Back to bed," I said, and took a long pull of wine. A week later, a messenger delivered to me four complete outfits, all beautifully embroidered and one almost an exact duplicate of the one that had been damaged. He also brought a red velvet barding for Anna and a matching surcoat for me, both embroidered with gold thread.

All of it fit perfectly. I never found out how they got the sizes, but I was never again troubled by the underworld.

Chapter Nineteen

I needed quite a few bra.s.s castings for the wet mills. There was the gearing between the small, compensating windmill and the turret. I had originally envisioned a collection of wooden cog wheels, but a bra.s.s worm gear was a lot simpler and more efficient.

A worm gear is simply a screw-the worm-with threads that fit into the teeth of a gear. The problem is that for them to mate properly, the shapes of both the worm and the gear get very complicated. They were well beyond our ability to machine; they were probably beyond my ability to describe mathematically. I spent an evening drinking and pondering the problem in my room.

The taproom below was always too crowded and noisy to think, and even in my room enough noise seeped up from below to be disturbing. I finally hired a krummhorn player to sit in the comer and play softly. Muzak.

The next morning, I had Mikhail Krakowski make up an oversized worm and gear out of clay.

This was done crudely, by hand and by eye. The teeth were very deep, and the clay was built up around turned bra.s.s mandrels to a.s.sure concentric bearings. When dry, we fitted these together in an adjustable wooden frame. The fit was poor at first, but it was possible to turn the gear by turning the worm. We then put a man to cranking the worm gently and adjusting the teeth together as the unbaked clay wore away. In three days, they were much smaller and a perfect fit. We then fired the clay worm and gear, and these became our master patterns for bra.s.s castings. This gearing gave us a 48 to I reduction between the small windmill and a shaft that connected to the turret. The shaft turned a lantern gear that worked on pegs set into the fixed tower. As a result, the small windmill turned 1,152 times in the course of rotating the turret once. I hoped it would be enough.

One by one, problems were solved. The bushings had been cast, one with sockets to hold the windmill blades. These bushings were being turned laboriously on the big lathe. Two more smaller lathes were under construction. We were confident that all the parts necessary for the wet mill would be ready for delivery to Okoitz in a month.

I was getting ready to return to Count Lambert when I heard an awful squealing from the foundry. I rushed over and was stopped by Wladyslaw Krakowski. "My brother! My own brother called me a lazy pig!" "I called you a lazy pig because you are a lazy pig!" Mikhail explained. The squealing was still going on.

"All right! But I'm a tired lazy pig, and walking in that barrel on the lathe is no fit job for a man!"

They were still arguing when I pushed past them and went to the lathe. Thom was operating it.

Inside the barrel an unhappy pig was trotting madly, trying to climb the rotating wall. A bra.s.s ring in the animal's nose was tied to a wooden stick such that if it stopped running, its nose was pulled.

I stared at this for a while. Using a pig as motive power was strange, but a pig is a strong animal, and its short legs let it work where no horse could possibly fit. Would our future machines be rated in pigpower the way Americans use horsepower?

I suppose it was hard on the pig, but I can think of nothing worse to do to an animal than killing and eating it, and I am not about to become a vegetarian like Adolf Hitler.

Thom moved the stick back so that the pig could stop. "The speed control," he said. "I think we'll have to switch pigs about three times an hour. It's cheaper than men, though."

I could see that it was time to go back to Okoitz.

I was in the saddle when the innkeeper brought me a stirrup cup and a pouch of gold. "Seven thousand pence, my lord. Your profits for the first month of the Pink Dragon," he said.

I thanked him and rode off. Seven thousand pence in a single month! That was twice what I paid for the place, back salaries and all! Well, it would keep the foundry going no matter what else happened. If I couldn't get land of my own, that foundry might be all that stood between us and the Mongols. Anna seemed inordinately proud of her new red velvet barding. She held her head high with her neck arched and walked with a gait she'd never used before. It was a sort of hopping thing, with her left front and right rear hooves. .h.i.tting the cobblestones at the same time. I guess it was impressive because a lot of people came out to watch.

But it was rough on my lower back, and as soon as we left the city gates, I urged her into a more comfortable gallop.

She ran the entire way to Sir Miesko's manor, again without working up a sweat. Krystyana greeted me, but at first I almost didn't recognize her. Her actual appearance hadn't changed, except that she wore her hair differently. But something about her bearing, the way she held her shoulders back, the way she glided instead of clumping along like a gawky adolescent ... But there was more, much more. Something that I couldn't quite define. Somehow, a pretty duckling had turned into a swan.

"Welcome, Sir Conrad. I've missed you." She had the same calm smile that made Lady Richeza so radiant.

I was home.

I hated to leave, but I was worried about my projects at Okoitz so we set out the next morning.

Halfway to Okoitz, we met Sir Miesko on the road. "Sir Miesko! It's delightful to see you again.

We have just come from your manor, and all is well."

"That relieves my mind, Sir Conrad. In truth, I worried about Richeza all winter. For my own part, I have sent Boris Novacek on his way to Cracow with half a dozen mule skinners, seventyfive mules, and a gross of barrels of wine." "And how are things going at Okoitz?"

"Amazing! Your loom and wheels are turning out cloth by the mile, and that huge mill of yours is half up!"

"Half up! I've stayed too long at Cieszyn."

"All seemed to be going well. But aren't you being rude, Sir Conrad? You haven't introduced me to your lady."

"But you already know her. Surely you haven't forgotten Krystyana."

"What? d.a.m.n, but you're right! But her bearing, her poise-"

"It's entirely your wife's doing, Sir Miesko. Krystyana visited her for a month, and you see the results. I didn't think to buy a present for Richeza, but if you want a loom and some spinning wheels, or even the fittings for a mill, you have only to ask."

"I might just take you up on that, for you have gained a prize of great value. But now I am anxious to see my wife again, so I bid you good-bye, Sir Conrad, and you, my Lady Krystyana."

As Sir Miesko rode away, Krystyana looked at me. "He called me a lady!"

"You'd rather be a gentleman?"

"Of course not! But surely I'm only a peasant girl."

"Well, you'll always be a pretty wench to me, Krystyana."

"He acted as though I was of the n.o.bility!"

"So, n.o.ble is as n.o.ble acts. Come on, let's get going."

"But I'm not n.o.ble, am I?"

"Do you expect to be beaten about the head and shoulders with a sword? I don't know if there is a ceremony for elevating a common woman, but as far as I'm concerned, you can be whatever you want to be. Let's ride." The mill was nothing like half done, but good progress was being made under Vitold's supervision. The "bas.e.m.e.nt" for the lower tank had been dug, and the new well was in. Most of the upright logs had had their sides flattened, and some of them were already in place.

All according to plan. The main shaft was finished, ready for the bra.s.s collars, but here there was a discrepancy. I had a.s.sumed that the cam would be a separate piece, but Vitold had cut the cam and shaft out of a single log more than two yards across! I had allowed an extra yard in diameter to provide room for clamping the cam to the shaft, but single-piece construction let him reduce the cam diameter from three to two yards while still giving a meter's travel on the follower wheel at the end of the A-frame.

This in turn permitted raising the top of the clean tank half a yard, increasing its volume by sixty tons of water. Also, the turret could be lowered by half a yard, saving materials and work. It was an excellent improvement. Now if I could only teach Vitold to read blueprints!

"You're doing a good job, Vitold. "

"Thank you, Sir Conrad. We're way ahead of where I thought we'd be. It's these axes you showed Ilya how to make. The old axes needed sharpening every hour, but since he treated them, they last for days!"

"Hmm. Good. Tell Ilya to come to me the next time he's free." "I'll tell him when he gets back, Sir Conrad. He's been gone for a week getting supplies."

The count's hall was humming with activity. Natalia and a girl I hadn't met were running the loom at a remarkable pace, and six other "handmaidens," most of them new, were spinning busily.

Eleven huge bolts of cloth were proudly stacked in a comer, and the girls all seemed to be having fun.

Five of the count's knights were in attendance, but the count was out with a party making the rounds of his lands and the manors of his knights. The journey was partly social, visiting his subordinates; partly economic, to ensure that things were managed well; partly judicial.

The knights and barons had the right of low justice, that is, jurisdiction over offenses punishable by fines, flogging, and up to a year's forced labor, subject to the count's review. The count reserved for himself the right of high justice, and his word could have a man hanged. For eight months of the year, he was out riding circuit half the time.

Except for Sir Stefan, who was still making himself unpleasant on my behalf, the knights were essentially a decent lot, if somewhat extroverted. They tended to spend their afternoons in fighting practice, their evenings in heavy drinking, and their mornings sobering up.

I spent some of my afternoons with them, but they were slow to pick up on fencing, and I wasn't worth much with a lance and shield. Evenings were like being back in the air force again. They were especially pleasant since Sir Stefan had the dusk to midnight guard shift. We sang songs, told stories, and swapped lies with boisterous good humor. Yet I always had to watch what I said so as not to violate my oath to Father Ignacy, and much of their conversation revolved around hunting and hawking, of which I was ignorant. Then, too, they were very heavy drinkers. While I like to drink, too much of it spoils lovemaking, and s.e.x doesn't give you hangovers. Following local custom, the knights had left their wives at home to manage things. There were now a dozen ladies- in-waiting, six of them new since Mary and Ilona had been p.r.o.nounced pregnant and married off.

This left us with plenty of variety, although Krystyana was still the best-looking of the bunch. The other knights were courteous to Krystyana, but at bedtime they paired off with other girls. After a few nights, I got to sleeping with Krystyana regularly even though there were quite a few I hadn't sampled. I just didn't want her feelings hurt.

I looked up Angelo Muskarini, the Florentine walker.

"You have strange things going here, Sir Conrad."

"How so?"

"You told me not to criticize your loom and spinning wheels. Your loom looks crude, but it makes more cloth and faster-than any that I have ever seen. And your spinning wheels are amazing!

They make a hundred times the thread that a distaff can!"

"Better than the wheels in Florence?"

"There are no spinning wheels in Florence, nor any in Flanders, either. This is a new thing under the sun!"

Huh? I'd thought that they had spinning wheels in the thirteenth century. Oh, well. "I'm glad that you approve. So what's so strange about our goings-on?" "Because, Sir Conrad, you are doing everything else entirely wrong! You have the finest methods for spinning and weaving that I have ever seen, but you aren't even sorting your wool! Your ideas of combing and carding are a joke, and no one here has ever heard of warping, or dyeing, or fulling!" "Well, we're new at this. Talk to Vitold and Ilya about any special tools you'll need and figure out what you'll need in the way of dyeing vats and so on. The count wants a dozen looms going by winter, which means a dozen of our six-station spinning wheels. We'll need enough of the rest of this stuff to keep them fed. How are you doing for dyes and other chemicals?"

"I have plenty for now, but with a dozen looms-"

"Figure out what you'll need for a year and we'll place an order with Boris Novacek. I still owe him a favor."

I spent some of my time watching the mill go up, although Vitold really didn't need any help.

Mostly I worked on the scale model of the dry mill. The bas.e.m.e.nt of that mill was to be eight yards deep and insulated with two yards of sawdust. It was to serve as an icehouse, a communal refrigerator. Come winter, two-thirds of its volume was to be packed with snow, the rest in storage shelves. According to my crude estimates, the snow should last at least twelve months. We would be able to store some of the vegetables and meat from the next harvest through the winter.

In external appearance, the dry mill looked like the wet mill, except the circular work shed was missing. The only attendant building was to house a threshing machine. The dry mill's construction was lighter, because it didn't have to support twenty-five hundred tons of water.

Internally, it was designed quite differently. The ground floor had a huge, three-yard grindstone, which was turned by a shaft connected to a ten-yard solid wheel just below the turret. Four circles of carefully placed vertical pegs rose from the wheel, and on the shaft above it were eight matching rows of radial pegs. The shaft was offset by a yard from the center line of the mill. Between these sets of pegs was a movable lantern gear with sliding concave bra.s.s rollers to mate with both sets of pegs. By moving the lantern gear, the miller could get four different speeds, both forward and reverse.

The s.p.a.ce between the gears and the stone was mostly taken up by twelve grain hoppers. Each had a chute at the bottom to direct grain to the hole in the top of the stone. Outside, a system of pulleys and dump buckets filled the hoppers. One of the knights, Sir Vladimir, seemed to have some mechanical ability. He got interested in the model and started helping me with it. After we had worked together for a few hours, I asked, "What's wrong between you guys and Krystyana?"